Taken, Not Spurred

  You didn’t give me your heart, but you gave me confidence and courage. In some weird, twisted way, you even gave me back my family.

  Hmm. Twisted. Also a possible title.

  Sarah flipped her notebook open and jotted it down. The words on the page blurred, and she saw Tony with painful clarity in her mind. I wish I knew you were better off because of our time together. What did I give you? She blushed as vivid memories of their nights together returned in force. Well, besides that.

  I chased you, cornered you, and then pushed you to be someone you’re not.

  No wonder it didn’t work out.

  You kept telling me you weren’t ready, but I heard only what I wanted to hear.

  Sarah thought back to their time together at the cabin and what he’d shared when he’d opened up to her. He hadn’t always been incapable of love. He’d loved Missy, the mare he’d trained that his father had sold. How old did he say he’d been? Twelve? That would have been eighteen years ago. Can she still be alive? Depending on how old she was when he’d trained her, maybe. Some horses live into their thirties and beyond.

  But how would I even begin to look for her?

  Dean.

  Sarah contacted him through the Fort Mavis Sheriff’s Department. After all, this was sort of a community service request. It was for a member of his community.

  Dean didn’t require much convincing. It was a long shot and he told her so, but he promised to look into it. Unbelievably, he called back the next morning and, after checking with Steve and Cindy to let them know she’d be gone for part of the day, Sarah hitched the empty trailer to her SUV. Missy was with a family a couple of hours away, and now that the children had all grown and gone, the aging parents kept her as a pasture pet. They weren’t looking to sell her, but that didn’t stop Sarah.

  I’m not leaving without her.

  I don’t care what she costs.

  I’ll bring her home, clean her up, and call David. He’ll know the best way to deliver her to Tony.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was late morning when Tony pulled into the driveway of Melanie’s parents’ house. Melanie had told him to park near the barn because Sarah was staying in the attached apartment at the back of the house.

  Sarah’s car wasn’t parked where Melanie had said it would probably be, and she didn’t answer his knock on her door. So much for surprising her.

  Tony walked to the main house and bypassed the doorbell for a more satisfying thundering knock on the door. A young brown-haired woman, who appeared to be in her early twenties, opened the door. Her eyes rounded at the sight of him. “Oh,” she said, “you’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Where is Sarah?” Tony demanded. When he’d rehearsed his speech on the way over, it hadn’t occurred to him that she might not be there.

  “She’s not here,” the young woman said.

  “That much is obvious,” Tony replied, quickly losing his patience.

  An older woman’s voiced called out from inside the house, “Who is it, Bunny?”

  “It’s Tony Carlton,” the young woman called back.

  “What’s he doing here?” the woman asked, not waiting for the answer before rushing to her daughter’s side to find out for herself. The elegantly dressed woman held out a hand in greeting. “Mr. Carlton, what a surprise.”

  With a nod, Tony reluctantly shook her hand. “Ma’am, I came to see Sarah. Melanie told me she’s staying with you.”

  “She is, but she went out to run an errand this morning. I’ll tell her you dropped by.”

  “I’ll wait,” Tony stated with determination.

  “Mom, he can’t. It’ll ruin everything.”

  “Bunny, stop. Does it really matter how he finds out?”

  Tony’s temper began to rise. What don’t they want me to know? Did I leave Sarah alone for too long? Did she find someone else? If so, I hope she’s not overly attached to a man I’m going to kill when I meet him. Between gritted teeth, Tony asked, “Find out what?”

  The sound of a car pulling into the driveway caught Tony’s attention. He didn’t wait for an answer to his question; he strode down the steps and headed toward Sarah’s apartment. It was Sarah driving her SUV with the horse trailer in tow. She parked next to the barn and jumped out, rushing to the side of his truck and looking around.

  Fortunately, she was alone.

  “Sarah,” he said. He knew his tone had been harsh and was wishing he’d softened it when she spun toward him. He saw the joy she felt at seeing him, just before she reined her emotions in.

  I’m an ass.

  There isn’t anyone else.

  He closed the distance between them, rehearsing exactly what he’d say to convince her to give him a second chance. He’d start with an apology. He’d tell her how much he’d missed her, how much he needed her. And then, he’d tell her what had taken him weeks to admit to himself.

  I love you.

  She took a step toward him, and he swung her up and held her slightly above him, kissing her with all the passion that had been building within him since he’d last seen her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and settled into his arms as he lowered her slowly against his chest. Her tears mixed with their kiss. He buried his face in her hair and held her to himself.

  “I was a fool,” he said urgently, hugging her closer.

  She pulled back so she could look into his eyes and said, “No, I was. I pushed you when I should have given you time.”

  He cupped her face in his hands and said, “I didn’t need more time, I needed a swift kick in the pants, and you leaving me did that. I was trapped in the past. You set me free.”

  Still crying even though she was smiling, Sarah said, “Are you really here?”

  He kissed her lips lightly, tenderly. “Yes, and I hope you can pack fast, because you’re coming home with me.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “I know what I want and that’s you, Sarah.”

  Her beautiful brown eyes searched his face. “For how long?”

  He ran a light thumb over her bottom lip. “Forever.”

  She launched herself onto her tiptoes and kissed him, and the world around them receded. All that existed, all that mattered, was the two of them and their hunger for each other. They kissed until the desire to rip each other’s clothing off, right there in the driveway, almost won out.

  Tony broke off the kiss and rested his forehead on hers, their mutual labored breathing blocking out all other sounds. “Do you have anything inside that you can’t get later? You already have Scooter loaded. Let’s go home. We’ll come back for my truck and your things tomorrow . . . or the next day. I want you in my bed, and once I have you there, I can’t imagine we’ll be leaving it anytime soon.”

  Flushed and looking a bit bemused, Sarah said, “That’s not Scooter in the trailer.”

  “You bought yourself another horse?”

  Sarah touched his cheek softly. “No, I bought you one.”

  He looked at the trailer but couldn’t see more than a shadow of what was inside. “You bought me a horse? Does that mean you’d decided to come back?”

  “No,” she said, her eyes brimming with emotion. “I was going to have David deliver her to you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Tony said.

  “Go look at her,” Sarah suggested.

  The last thing Tony cared about right then was a horse, but Sarah seemed to care an awful lot about her gift, so he went to the back of the trailer and opened it. To his surprise, it wasn’t a quarter horse or even a young horse.

  Sarah opened the side door and unclipped the horse’s harness. An aged white mare backed off the trailer. Tony’s gut clenched painfully as he recognized her profile.

  It can’t be.

  H
e put out his hand for the mare to smell. She whinnied into his palm, then rubbed her head roughly against him. His voice came out in a whisper. “Missy?”

  Emotion flooded him as he tried to make sense of what he’d never dared to think possible. Sarah had found the horse his father had sold when he was twelve. The only horse he’d ever let himself love.

  Did she remember him? Before Sarah, Tony would have said she couldn’t. He would have dismissed her greeting and the way she was nuzzling against him as learned behavior—something she associated with any human contact. But as he looked into those wise equine eyes, he saw recognition and love.

  “Where did you find her?” He put his hand out to Sarah, and his heart swelled when she took it between both of hers.

  “Dean found her. The people that owned her bought her at an auction in your town from your father. They remembered him. She’s been at their farm ever since. All their children learned to ride on her, but they retired her when their kids moved out. If I hadn’t told them your story, they would have let her graze in their back field for the rest of her life. They loved her, Tony, just like you did. And they would like to come visit her at your ranch if you’ll let them.”

  Whatever wall had been left around Tony’s heart crumbled, and he pulled Sarah into a bone-crushing embrace. He didn’t even try to hide the happy tears that ran down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure he’d ever done a single thing to deserve a woman as kindhearted and loving as Sarah, but he knew he’d spend the rest of his life trying to. “I love you, Sarah Dery,” he said.

  Sarah wrapped her arms around Tony’s waist. He loves me! “It took you long enough to realize it.”

  He pulled her to his side, kissed her upturned lips softly, and said, “From the moment I found you in my shower, I knew my life would never be the same.”

  “In a good way?”

  He kissed her cheek. “In the best way. When do you want to get married?”

  Sarah laughed. “You’re not going to ask me first?”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m not giving you the option of saying no. But you can pick the date as long as it’s soon.”

  “You are one pushy cowboy,” she teased.

  For a long moment, he looked down into her eyes, and she glimpsed the sadness that had originally drawn her to him. “I love you, Sarah, and I am a better man because you came into my life.”

  Sarah hugged him possessively. “Well, don’t change too much. I have a few things left on my list, and I don’t think they are nice-guy approved.”

  A huge smile spread across Tony’s face. “List?”

  Looking down at his chest, Sarah said, “It’s a bucket list.” Or more accurately: My Fuck-It List. Sarah chuckled at the thought that she wasn’t quite brave enough to share out loud. I should write that down.

  Tony held her just a little away from himself and waited until she looked up at him. “Tell me.”

  My notebook can wait.

  “Let’s go home,” Sarah said playfully, then whispered seductively against his lips, “I’d rather show you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next morning, dressed only in one of Tony’s plaid shirts, Sarah left him sleeping in their bed and slipped away to the bathroom for a moment. She looked in the mirror and smiled. Her hair was loose in a tangled mess. The makeup she hadn’t taken the time to remove was smudged beneath her eyes.

  I look like we spent the night doing exactly what we did. Eventually, one of us will have to go downstairs for food, and I can’t look like this if there is any chance it might be me.

  She turned on the water and slid out of Tony’s shirt. A few moments later, Sarah closed her eyes and sighed as she relaxed in the full tub. She smiled as she replayed every wonderful, hot moment of the night before. They’d barely made it in the door before they’d ripped each other’s clothing off and had sex on the stairs while heading to his bedroom.

  Eventually, temporarily spent, they’d cuddled in his bed and talked. He told her about the changes he wanted to make at his ranch, and she told him about her plans to self-publish her stories. Her heart nearly burst with pride when he explained that he’d given a house to Melanie and Jace. He wasn’t a man who boasted about what he did. He told her because there were no more barriers between them. No more secrets.

  “Did you hear any more from Lucy about her ranch? I made the call. Don’t know if it did much good. I figure we should send David out there to see what’s going on. He’s good with the business side of ranching.”

  “You’d do that?” Sarah had asked in awe.

  He’d kissed her and said, “I would do anything for you or those you care about.”

  And she believed him because, as frustrating as he sometimes was, Tony was a man who didn’t say a word more than he meant.

  Breshall Haas is sure going to be busy, because book three is already coming alive for me. My two broken characters will finally bring each other as much comfort as they do passion. She smiled as she remembered how Tony had looked tied to the bed at the cabin, as willing to be taken as she ever was. She sank deeper beneath the warm water and watched the book play out in her imagination, like a movie.

  Being taken.

  It keeps getting better and better.

  Wrapped only in a towel, Sarah walked back into the bedroom and saw Tony happily reading her notebook. He put it down on his lap and said, “That will always remind me of the day we met.”

  Sarah looked down and laughed. “Let’s not tell anyone that story, deal?”

  He smiled and held up her notebook, revealing the evidence of his excitement standing erect beneath the sheet. “I see you have been busy. I like your new story, but I have a few questions.”

  Sarah sat and turned to face him, knowing that when she lifted her leg onto the bed she’d give him an intimate view. He sucked in a breath, his attention no longer focused on her writing. “What did you want to know?”

  He met her eyes, desire sizzling the air between them. “What?”

  Sarah ran a hand down the sheet, caressing one of his thighs through the smooth cotton. “You said you had questions.”

  He reached behind her head and pulled her closer, murmuring against her lips. “It doesn’t matter.”

  The temptation to sink into his arms warred with the need to know what he thought about her writing. She put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I want your feedback. My writing isn’t a hobby to me—it’s a part of me. What do you think?”

  He shifted and pulled her down beside him in the bed and tucked her into his side. “First, why does he have to be a billionaire? Are millions not sexy enough?”

  Sarah ran her hand across the light hair of his chest. “Don’t be jealous. He’s not real.”

  Tony kissed her lightly on her forehead. “He’d better not be, because he and I share some similar techniques.” Despite his obvious hard-on, he reopened her notebook and pointed to a scene she had written. “I think I could do this better than you described it, though. I had some ideas while I read it.”

  “You did?” Sarah asked, allowing her towel to fall to one side. She moved the sheet aside and took him in her hand, caressing him while she spoke. “I don’t mind trying that again. For research purposes, of course.”

  “Of course,” he said huskily, half closing his eyes with pleasure. He flipped to another part of the notebook and said, “And I’m not sure this particular move is even humanly possible.”

  Sarah moved her hand lower, cupping his balls gently. “Only one way to find out.” Then she took the notebook and turned to a scene near the end. “What did you think of this part?”

  He reread a line, then rolled over so they were face-to-face on the bed. His thumb circled and teased one of her nipples until it was hard and begging for his mouth. “I thought it lacked sufficient detail, but that’s something we can fix together.”

&
nbsp; Suddenly more serious, Tony said, “I never meant to make you feel like what you described in the second book. I wasn’t ready for what you were offering me. But I’m ready now.”

  Looking into his loving green eyes, Sarah thought about how much they had both changed. They’d each been lost in their own way, and together had found a way back. Nothing would change the past. Even love couldn’t do that, but they no longer had to face it alone.

  There are things we can fix and things we can’t. I guess life is about figuring out which is which, and dealing with both the best you can.

  And if you’re lucky, you find someone who loves you, scars and all.

  Tony rolled on top of her, seeming to sense the serious direction of her thoughts. He kissed her cheek softly and said, “Let’s take it slow and gentle this time.”

  Sarah dropped her notebook on the floor beside the bed.

  My cowboy . . .

  Gentle or rough.

  When it’s right, they’re both good.

  Author’s Note

  Paso Finos are a wonderful, smoothly gaited breed and are not necessarily well represented by my depiction of them. I own a Paso Fino and I adore him. He’s a backyard horse that has been my best friend for longer than I’ve been married. If you’re interested in the elegance and gait of the breed, read about them online. If you prefer to think of the breed in terms of the quirky personality of one woman’s equine friend, that’s my Scooter.

  Also, use discretion if attempting to re-create any of the spicier scenes in this book. The author is not responsible for those of you who feel inspired and then fall from a tree. And please, drive responsibly.

  Acknowledgments

  I am so grateful to everyone who was part of the process of creating first Gentling the Cowboy and then the republished version, Taken, Not Spurred. Thank you to:

  My very patient beta readers—Karen Lawson, Heather Bell, Marion Archer, Yeu Khun, Kathy Dubois, Janet Hitchcock—who read multiple versions of the same chapters until I felt they were right. Thank you Karen and Janet for giving me the “Fuck-It List.”